


After the Dance

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Blow Jobs, Drabble, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Public Blow Jobs, Teenlock, Throat Fucking, balletlock, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a rising ballet star, working hard to get past auditions. John is his rugby captain boyfriend. Things get interesting when Sherlock wants to experiment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Available now in Russian [here](http://ficbook.net/readfic/2701443)

_John? SH_

_Yes?_

_I require your assistance. SH_

_I’m studying, Sherlock. Massive test in bio tomorrow, remember?_

_I’ll help you study later. SH_

_Please, John. It’s for an experiment. SH_

_Yes, because those words are really going to make me wish to help you._

_I’m dancing and I need your help. Please. SH_

_[Delayed] Yes, alright, fine, you twat. Are you at the studio?_

_Obviously. I said I was dancing. SH_

_You are so lucky that I love you._

Sherlock didn’t reply, instead setting his phone on top of his bag, which was stuffed into the corner of the room. He was only wearing his tights and his socks, already sweaty from the hour he had put into the dance. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall, his lower ribs visible with each breath. He had pushed himself to build up the amount of muscle that he currently had, but he was still nothing compared to the other kids that he had seen in the studio. When he compared himself to his competition, he was certain that he didn’t have a chance.

Not to mention his astounding lack of an instructor. He was in this alone, aside from the occasional moral support from John.

With a determined lift of his chin, Sherlock started dancing again, the music only heard to him – the violin piece that he had composed and that he would play when he went in for try-outs. He was original, in every way, but he was still behind the other students without a proper teacher.

He heard the door open nearly halfway through the dance, but he didn’t falter, didn’t pause to look over at the intruder. He instead closed his eyes and put everything he had into a leap. He turned mid-air, landing in a sweeping bow, his fingertips just brushing the floor.

When he rose, his arms were outstretched, his hands all but loose as he turned his head, offering his profile to the make-believe audience that he was dancing to.

Through his heavy pants for breath, he heard footsteps approach, and then one hand pressed against the base of his spine and the other against his chest, curving his back.

“Makes you look more dramatic,” John breathed, his voice soft as if he didn’t want to break the silence. John’s voice was always volumes louder than anything when Sherlock heard it, though. It always crashed around him and consumed him. Sometimes, it left him gasping for breath.

Sherlock waited until John pulled away before he dropped his arms and faced his boyfriend, assessing him as he always did. “Good thing no one else is here. You certainly look as if you’ve been studying for the past many hours,” he said with a smirk.

John shoved him, which of course only made Sherlock laugh, his low voice bouncing around the confines of the mirrored room. John chuckled as well, adding to the crescendo of noise.

“Okay,” John said after a moment, gaining control of himself again. “You got me down here. Now what did you need my help with?”

Sherlock looked John up and down, smirking before taking a step forward, setting a hand on John’s chest and pushing him backwards towards the wall and the stool he had set out earlier. “I realised,” he said lowly, stopping just before the wall, “that, despite the many times you’ve seen me dance, you’ve never seen me in my tights.” He tipped his head down, brushing his lips against the shell of John’s ear as he reached down to cup John through his jeans.

This wasn’t the first time they had done this, but it was the first time that Sherlock was going to experiment with it.

“I was curious to see what it did to you. Obviously,” he murmured, slowly starting to kiss down John’s neck, “you like it rather a lot.”

His long fingers quickly went to work on getting rid of the fabric that was keeping Sherlock from what he wanted, and soon he had dropped John’s jeans and pants to his thighs.

“Sherlock… we’re in a public place,” John argued, just now coming to his senses.

“How astute of you,” Sherlock purred, guiding John down onto the stool and quickly kneeling before him, pulling him down into a kiss. “But don’t worry. No one ever shows up at this time of day.”

“You do,” John countered, but it was obvious that he was slowly losing his argument.

Sherlock had to smirk at the predictability of the average teenage boy. Offer them some form of sex, and they were instantly putty in your hands.

“Yes, well,” Sherlock murmured, pushing on John’s chest until he was leaning back against the wall, “that’s precisely _why_ I come in at this time.”

He licked his lips then, leaning down to mouth along John’s cock, leaving wet kisses as he worked his way from the base up to the tip. He looked up at his boyfriend, watching his brain slowly turn to mush as the endorphins settled into his system. John was his to mould, to conquer.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” the blond boy gasped when Sherlock licked over the frenulum, his fingers finding their way into Sherlock’s slightly damp curls.

Sherlock just hummed, taking John between his lips and sucking gently on the head, his tongue teasing along the glans and the slit. He hummed, taking John deeper, bobbing his head and flicking his tongue. He knew that he could take John all the way, but why rush it? By the looks of things, John wasn’t going to last too terribly long anyway.

Once he had taken John most of the way, he pulled off and paid attention to his balls, sucking them gently into his mouth as he continued to stroke his shaft, his thumb occasionally running over the head. 

John moaned low in his throat, his fingers tightening in Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock released John’s balls, moving back up to lick up and down John’s shaft, practically purring at the way he tasted, the bareness and delicacy of him.

He had John in his mouth a second later, not holding back anymore as he swallowed him down, working along John’s length until the tip of his cock was against the back of his throat, his nose touching John’s lower abdomen. He held there for a moment and then picked up a quick rhythm, sometimes forgetting to breathe as he went down on John. His hand gently rolled John’s balls, tugging lightly at them as he continuously took him down his throat.

And then John did what Sherlock had been hoping he would do. He tightened his fingers further in Sherlock’s hair to hold his head still and then lifted his hips, fucking himself into Sherlock’s mouth.

Sherlock looked up at John from underneath his lashes, something that he knew the rugby captain liked. John swore again at the sight, fucking himself down Sherlock’s throat until he came hard, tossing his head back with a shout.

Sherlock swallowed, waiting until John was spent before he pulled off and licked over John’s sensitive cock to clean him up.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” John breathed a little raggedly. He combed through Sherlock’s hair, trailing his hand down to cup Sherlock’s cheek.

Sherlock smiled as if he had just won an argument, and John chuckled at his look.

John reached down and hiked up his pants and jeans, buttoning them and pulling up the zip. He held his hand down to Sherlock, offering him some help up.

Sherlock accepted, rising slowly to his feet with John’s help. He gasped as John immediately spun him around and pinned him against the wall, reaching down to grab his leg and set his ankle on his shoulder.

John grinned devilishly, keeping Sherlock pinned where he wanted him. He turned his head, gently kissing Sherlock’s ankle, trailing his lips down his leg to his calf. “I think I owe you something,” he murmured, looking up at Sherlock with the spark in his eye that always got his heart racing.

“Please,” Sherlock begged, tipping his head back against the wall.

“Always happy to oblige,” John murmured, reaching into Sherlock’s tights and pulling out his heavy, leaking cock. “God, look at you. You always make fun at me, being so needy of you. Jesus, have you ever looked at yourself?” he asked, slowly stroking his hand over Sherlock’s cock.

Sherlock shivered, grabbing onto John’s shoulder and trying to force himself to not thrust into John’s hand. John was setting the pace, now that his mind wasn’t filled with cotton.

“I look at myself every day,” Sherlock commented sarcastically, gesturing absently to the mirrors around the room.

“Good,” John whispered in a tone that made Sherlock moan. “Look at yourself now.”

Sherlock did, and his mouth fell open in a soft gasp. His lips were flushed a bright red from giving John his blowjob, and there was a high pink flush over his cheekbones. His hair was a mess from where John’s hand had been pulling on it. He looked desperate and engulfed in desire.

“You look beautiful,” John murmured, pressing closer to Sherlock and working his hand faster.

Sherlock whined, tossing his head back and clinging to John as he slowly felt his orgasm building. And then he was gone, shaking apart in John’s hand and spilling all over them. John worked him through it, stroking until he was too tender to want the attentions anymore.

“Well,” Sherlock said after he had caught his breath, “that experiment went better than I was hoping.”

John just smacked him and laughed, leaning his forehead against Sherlock’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for three reasons:  
> 1\. For the LWS prompt  
> 2\. For [ threader's](http://threadear.tumblr.com/) AMAZING art  
> 3\. For [ bennyslegs'](http://bennyslegs.tumblr.com/) fic prompt/request
> 
> [ THIS](http://threadear.tumblr.com/post/53939453991/i-leave-you-with-this-ballet-sherlock-and-run) is the amazing art in question
> 
> Uh... I don't know what happened. This wasn't supposed to be smut, but smut happened.


End file.
